Operation: Write For All Characters!
by GoldDarkiN
Summary: A set of ficlets revolving around the various Autobots and Decepticons that we all love (or hate). G1-slightly alternate universe. Additional warnings inside; not meant as slash. Suggestions for future chapters welcome!
1. Acid Storm and Sunstorm

AN: First fic ever! :D Alright, so, I'll try to make this brief:

-These ficlets are set in a slightly AU G1. Variations include characters not in G1, blue energon, denta, setting that is NOT the 80s, and various other squicks from other continuities.

-None of these have an actual plot, they're just "short" drabbles to see if I can actually write something decent or not.

-NONE of this is meant as slash, because I know some people are sensitive to that (I'm not). Any of these, however, can be seen as mild slash if you want, but I don't think this set of ficlets is going to be centered around those sorts of relationships.

-Continuing from that, any chapters that have two or more characters grouped together are done so for similarities or other relations (i.e. gestalts, twins, etc.).

-Each chapter will have it's own warnings and genre, posted in the author's note. :3

**EDIT:**

-Chapters will be named according to which characters they focus on.

-Chapters will be added in a pattern - Decepticon, then Autobot, and so on and so forth.

**-To the lovely reviewer who requested a Sideswipe chapter, it is currently in progress and should be the next Autobot ficlet added.**

As for this chapter:

**Title:** Reflections

**Characters:** Acid Storm, Sunstorm

**Genre:** General. Maybe a little angsty, but not really.

**Setting:** Cybertron - Present day

**Warnings:** None, unless you hate introspective Seekers.

**Disclaimer: If I owned them, I wouldn't be writing fan fiction. Trust me on this one.**

* * *

**Reflections**

Another hopelessly dark day on the metallic planet of Cybertron found Decepticon Acid Storm flying low over what had once been the crowded city streets of Kaon. He ended up doing a lot of patrolling these days, though for what purpose he had no idea. Personally, he thought Shockwave was glitched in the processor if he actually believed there would be Autobots hiding right beneath their pedes. Not that he would ever tell the cycloptic mech so; after all, that would mean insubordination, and insubordination in the Decepticon army meant death.

Then again, perhaps death wouldn't be so bad. At least termination would bring an end to the ever-repeating life he was being forced to live out on this dead lump of rusted metal. And surely _anything_ was better than countless more millennia under _Shockwave's_ command. Primus, he'd heard all the rumors about the emotionless 'Con ages before he had ever been forced to serve under him, but he hadn't actually believed they were _true_. How could someone who was basically a computer on legs even be considered a 'sentient lifeform?'

He exhaled slowly through his intakes. It didn't matter. It wasn't his place to question things like that; he was a soldier, not a philosopher. There were other mechs that could over-analyze everything, mechs like Thundercracker. Enveloped in these thoughts, Acid Storm did a lazy half-barrel roll before he turned to head back to the command tower.

No, he was a soldier, first and foremost. He didn't have time for questioning everything, nor did he feel any need to.

As he glided through the stale Cybertronian air, humming a melancholic tune-he thought it was some kind of old funerary song, but he couldn't be certain-his comm. crackled to life, relaying Sunstorm's voice to him. "Hey, Acid Storm! You still out on patrol?" he asked, sounding more than a little bored out of his mind.

"Affirmative, but I'm heading back now," the camo-patterned Seeker responded. "And you?"

"Nope, just got back. Shockwave's got me working in the labs again." It wasn't difficult to discern the loud sigh, even over the comm. link. That was to be expected; Sunstorm did _not_ belong indoors in general, but a lab? That was a disaster waiting to happen. His radioactivity tended to grow in strength when he was agitated or nervous, and considering Seekers were the worst kind of claustrophobic…Well, simply put: Sunstorm plus interior of structures equaled catastrophe.

"What's with him lately? He's acting weird, dontcha think?"

The Rainmaker was jolted out of his hazy thoughts by the odd statement. "What, Shockwave? Why in the Pit do you think he's acting weird?"

"…So, you can't tell?"

"_No," _Acid Storm replied, mentally sighing to himself. Sometimes Sunstorm's infinitely genuine sense of ignorance and innocence was _annoying_, to say the least. It was so easy to forget that for whatever reason, the radioactive mech noticed changes in Shockwave's mechanical and precise routines, as if he _wasn't_ just another drone. "What makes you think he's acting strangely? He's seems as emotionless as ever to me."

He heard his orange companion huff at his comment. "Yeah, whatever. Just hurry up and get back, okay? It's _boring_ over here."

"But you have Shockwave for company! Just start a conversation with-"

His sarcastic remark was cut short as Sunstorm abruptly disconnected the comm., plunging the rest of his flight back into agonizing silence. Alone once again, with only his thoughts and the lifeless shells of once-glorious city structures crumbling below to keep him company. He smiled to himself as he neared the Tower, gliding flawlessly through the air in long spirals and taking the time to relish the feeling of the wind caressing his wings. Sunstorm was young in terms of his mind, but he was a good soldier and a good friend. Ever the optimist, which was a refreshing change from the normal Decepticon attitude, even if his religious declarations did get tiring at times…

Well, at least he wasn't anything like the Seeker he was cloned from.

Acid Storm let out a small sigh of relief. Yes, it was most fortunate that Sunstorm was the polar opposite of the mighty Air Commander Starscream.

_The last thing we would have needed is another 'Screamer strutting around._

* * *

Working in the labs. _Again._

What _joy_. Sunstorm would get to haul around boxes of equipment while listening to Shockwave mutter to himself about what was logical and what wasn't. Because that was _always_ his favorite way to end a day filled with work and patrolling.

The brightly colored Seeker folded his arms and entered Shockwave's main laboratory, looking for the cyclops. "Shockwave!" he called impatiently, examining the rather large command center. His audio receptors picked up faint talking coming from the other end of the room. _Maybe he's speaking to Megatron_, he thought, shrugging and heading towards the sound. Reaching his creator, he arrived just in time to see his leader's face vanish from the screen Shockwave used for communicating with the Decepticons stationed on Earth. Any other time he would have dismissed it for a routine report, but Shockwave's antennae were twitching slightly. Something was wrong.

"Shockwave..?" he ventured, approaching the purple mech. "Everthing alright?"

The scientist swiftly turned around at the sound of his voice. "Ah, Sunstorm," he greeted in his crisp accent, quickly regaining his composure. "No, everything is fine. It appears there have been some minor casualties on Earth recently. It is not anything excessively important, but Lord Megatron requires my assistance in fixing the soldiers in question." He went back to his computer systems and began entering a multitude of commands. "I am to report to the Earth base within the next groon. Until then, I must recalibrate the space bridge and ready it for transport. I need you to-"

"Bring those boxes full of transistors and sparkplugs to the control panel? Got it." Something was up, of course, but he didn't push it. Instead, Sunstorm rolled his optics as he trudged towards the stacks of materials shoved in the corner. Shockwave merely went back to typing away at his console, seemingly content at the moment. One of his antennae, however, gave a last, agitated flick before going still once more.

Exhaling loudly through his intakes, the sunset-orange Seeker lifted the first box before activating his private comm. "Acid Storm! You still out on patrol?"

His friend's response crackled to life. "Affirmative, but I'm heading back now. And you?"

"Shockwave's got me working in the labs." He paused, allowing his friend to cringe at the fact, before a thought struck him. Shockwave had been acting strangely even before he had caught him twitching with anxiety after his conversation with Megatron. He seemed…almost _nervous, _sending out more patrols and staying up later and later in the command center. Acid Storm was intelligent; maybe he had noticed too. Maybe he even knew why, since he seemed to be one of Shockwave's more trusted subordinates.

"What's with him? Don't you think he's acting kinda weird?"

"Shockwave? What in the Pit makes you think that?"

Sunstorm mentally slapped himself for being so forward, and attempted to redeem his previous statement by using the innocently-oblivious approach. "…So that's a no?"

"_No_," the camo seeker strained. "I don't see how he's acting strange. He's seems as emotionless as ever."

"Whatever," he huffed back. "Just hurry up and get back. I'm _bored_." He cut the link as soon as Acid Storm was starting another snide remark about Shockwave's personality component. He really was _not _in the mood.

So Shockwave was a cold and logical scientist. Big deal! At least he wasn't just another dense Decepticon brute or some treacherous, insubordinating officer. Sure, maybe Sunstorm _was _just another one of his experiments; maybe he was just a test, a clone of someone else entirely. Maybe he _was_ only created to be some kind of super soldier and nothing more. That didn't change the fact that Shockwave was still, by all rights, his _creator_. No, he wasn't caring or particularly concerned for his well-being, but then what Decepticon was? He was still important, and even if other mechs thought Shockwave was completely emotionless, he could tell when he was distressed or angry. Even if the cyclops himself couldn't identify his own thoughts, Sunstorm could.

Decepticons weren't programmed to care for each other, but that didn't mean it didn't happen. After all, he and Acid Storm were friends, right? So surely it was okay to_ not_ want Shockwave dead.

He dropped the box of equipment he was carrying by the space bridge console and snuck a glance at the scientist, still hard at work at his computer. The Seeker smiled to himself as he went back to grab another box. So what if he was another one of Shockwave's experiments?

_He_ wasn't strapped to a surgical table, so he must have been some sort of success.

And that was enough for him.

* * *

(Sorry this was a bit long for a ficlet! ;-; But tell me your thoughts so I can improve, and any character suggestions for future chapters!)


	2. Tracks

**Title:** Vanity

**Characters:** Tracks

**Genre:** Humor

**Setting:** Earth - Present day

**Warnings:** "Harsh" language

**Disclaimer:**_** I'm pretty sure that we all know I don't own any of these characters in any way, shape or form.**_

_****_Enjoy!

* * *

"You want me to do _what?!_"

"Listen, Tracks," Blaster held out his hands in an apologetic gesture. "I'm all for keeping the paint job clean and shiny, know what I'm sayin'? But these are Prime's orders." He gripped the other mech's shoulder and squeezed softly. "Sorry, brother. Just have a rinse when you get back." With a last, sympathetic glance over his shoulder, the crimson tape deck turned and walked off, leaving a _very_ pissed off Tracks behind.

_Recon in the damn _Sahara? _Does Optimus think of me as some sort of off-roader now? _The multi-colored Autobot crossed his arms and stalked back to his quarters, gritting his denta to keep from screaming at the walls of the base. How _unfair! _Of _all_ the places to go scouting,_ he_ had to be the one going to one of the _largest and sandiest deserts on Earth. _Why couldn't _Hound_ go in his place? He was a stunningly handsome sports car, for Primus' sake, not a jeep! It would take Tracks _weeks_ to get all the dirt and dust out of his plating. Weeks and weeks of picking out all the small granules of sand trapped in his joints and cabling. The thought made him shudder in revulsion.

Wrapped up in these nightmarish scenarios, he didn't notice Jazz or the inquiring look the other gave him as he passed. "Hey, uh, Tracks, you okay? Look like you're…uh, havin' a breakdown or somethin'," The spy placed a comforting hand on the mech's shoulder, and tried to peer at his face to see what was upsetting him so much.

"No_ sir_, I am _not _okay. Prime has me set for reconnaissance in a desert." His mouth fell into a grimace of distaste. "_A desert_."

There was a long stretch of silence as Tracks waited for the horrifying news to sink in. He had been expecting at _least_ a groan of sympathy from the other, since Jazz was a tidy and clean mech himself. What he actually got was very different.

He _laughed._

That son of a bitch _laughed_. As if it was the funniest thing in the world! The red and blue Autobot jerked back away from his superior's hand and glared at him hatefully. "What in the Pit's so funny about that? You wanna be cleaning sand out of your chassis for a month?!"

"No," Jazz breathed, still chuckling. "Primus, no. It was the way you _acted_ about it. You're always so dramatic, Tracks. Lay off the theatrics, alright man? Just get Sunstreaker to help ya with your bodywork when you get back. Both of ya are obsessive about that kinda thing; I bet the only kinda payment he'll ask for is some assistance in cleaning his frame in return!" The silvery mech pretended to wipe away a coolant tear from underneath his visor. "Seriously though, don't freak out about it. I'll make sure Prowl puts you somewhere else ne-"

Tracks stood straighter when he heard Prowl's name and interrupted Jazz. "Prowl? _Prowl_ put me in the desert?"

The other waved his hand in a dismissive gesture and pulled a data pad out of subspace. "Yeah, Prowl schedules patrols, remember? Must've forgotten how much you hate sand. Anyway, I'll make sure he knows how peeved you were about it and hopefully it won't happen again." He started down the hallway again, throwing a last, amused smirk over his shoulder. "See ya later, Tracksy-boy. Have fun playin' in the desert."

* * *

An hour later found Tracks rapidly scrolling through a series of videos on a site known as 'YouTube', one that he had become quite fond of in the years that the Autobots had spent on Earth. You could find nearly _anything_ on there: music videos, news reports, American Idol, or, say, _how to remotely cause a car's transmission to go out_. Or maybe even _how to rig car speakers to stay set on a very, very loud volume, while the stereo blasted horrible rap music on repeat_. He'd have to look that one up.

And probably get Spike to buy one of Lil Wayne's albums for him.

He closed the videos and left his quarters to go on patrol. Prowl wanted to stick him in desert dunes? Fine. He could deal with that. He could deal with weeks of cleansing and waxing. He could deal with Sunstreaker's condescending voice grating on his audio receptors for hours as he picked out each individual granule of sand. He'd be fine. Pissed off the whole time, but fine. Maybe Jazz was right; maybe he was a little dramatic.

But now he knew what cleaning chemical was best for corroding a gas tank!


	3. Reflector

**Title:** Photographic Image

**Characters:** Reflector (Viewfinder, Spyglass, Spectro)

**Genre:** Angsty...ish? Probably more Hurt/Comfort.

**Setting:** New York City - Set during the events of All Hail Megatron #8.

**Warnings:** Mentions of death and 'gore', for lack of a better word, though it's nothing graphic or descriptive. Also, psychotic Reflector is psychotic.

**Disclaimer: _Does it really need to be repeated that I don't own any of these guys?_**

* * *

Today had been a fun day.

It had been fun because Reflector had gotten to play. He didn't get to play very often, especially not with humans. It was tragic, really, that the species was so delicate and small. He loved to take pictures of them. Spyglass and Spectro would hold one up in the perfect position, and Viewfinder would capture the image forever. Oh how he_ loved_ to look back at those pictures and cherish the memories they held, even if the people in the images had stopping breathing long before.

But sometimes the Viewfinder unit didn't like the pictures.

Sometimes, there would be too much blood, and it would make their beloved toy look hideous. Sometimes, there were too many unnaturally twisted limbs, and it made their poor, _poor_ little plaything look so sad and broken.

Viewfinder didn't like looking at those ones, because it made him feel sad.

The other two units that composed his mind and body, however, loved them so very much. They would gaze and gaze at the images of the little deformed toys and giggle in sync like a little child.

Today had been a _very_ good day for them.

"Oh, dear…" Viewfinder muttered quietly, though his words were echoed in unison by the other two Reflector units.

"They come apart quite easily, don't they?" Spectro chimed.

"Such a mess," Spyglass sighed in disappointment.

All three of Reflector's bodies were sitting in a small circle in a New York alley, facing each other. Boredom had taken residence within him, and now his toys were broken. Oh how _bittersweet_ victory could be.

"Shall we put them back together again?" Spyglass suggested enthusiastically as one of the Decepticon officers, Starscream, walked by. The air commander gave Reflector – namely the Viewfinder unit – a long and curious look, blood-red optics hard. He wouldn't understand. Starscream _couldn't _understand. _None_ of the others could.

"Yes, _let's!_" Spectro chirped joyfully while his statement was forced out of Viewfinder's mouth as well. The more melancholy of the three units kept his gaze focused on the filthy concrete that was currently acting as the ground. He didn't see it, but he knew Starscream had paused, a look of disgust and contempt crossing his narrow, dark features before the Seeker continued on to Primus-knew-where. It didn't matter. Reflector didn't care. Why should he care about the pompous little flyer?

What did _he_ know, anyway?

Spectro and Spyglass hoisted themselves off the ground and examined their third unit, whose optics were still downcast, his mouth pursed into a thin frown.

"What's wrong?" Reflector asked himself through Spectro, all three bodies speaking the words in unison. "We've had so much fun today, and gotten so many pictures. We can hang them in our quarters as decoration, and remember our toys forever and ever. Isn't that wonderful?"

"But they're broken," the Viewfinder unit stated flatly. "It's not any fun when they break. It makes us sad. Why do the humans have to be so delicate? Can't they just play nice?"

"Humans are so fragile," Spyglass added. "It's truly very sad when they break. But it makes them so much more fun to look at, wouldn't you agree?"

"Oh, yes, a lot more fun!"

"But now our toys are gone…"

Reflector sighed, and the sound seemed to echo in his three sets of audio receptors. Why did things always break so easy?

"We'll get more!" Spectro decided finally, the unit's optics brightening in delight.

"Yes, we will!" Spyglass agreed.

Viewfinder stood up and looked at himself, and a small smile danced at the edge of his lips. Starscream didn't matter. He had himself, didn't he? And really, that was all he needed. When he next spoke, all three Reflector units repeated the words to each other with new vigor.

"Let us go and play some more!"

Yes; today had been a fun day.

Now they would make it even better.


End file.
